


Zealous

by leoandsnake



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Daddy Issues, Jealousy, M/M, Mind Games, Unhealthy Relationships, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:30:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5043052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoandsnake/pseuds/leoandsnake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignettes from a realistically screwed-up early season 3 House/Chase relationship. I'll update as I have ideas, but each chapter can stand alone as a mini-fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

“Why haven’t you treated me any differently?” Chase asks.

He has his head in House’s lap while House fingers at his guitar. He’s staring up at House’s hands, with his own hands folded on his stomach.

“Excuse me?” House demands incoherently. He has a pick in his mouth.

“Since we’ve been sleeping together.”

“Do you want a key or something? Fine by me, if that means you’ll let yourself in and come blow me without me having to get up. If it’s for any other reason, the answer is obviously no.”

“Uh, not likely,” Chase says. “I mean at work.”

“Ah, got it,” House says, strumming out a chord. “Want me to start talking about you like I talk about Cuddy? Because I don’t know if you noticed, but I already do that. Or you mean we should play grab-ass in the hallway?”

“I mean with your general bullying,” Chase says. “You go on one date with Cameron, she never hears the end of it.”

“I don’t think I’ve brought that up in at _least_ a week.”

“And we’re, y’know -”

“Playing hide the sausage?”

“Well, whatever -”

“Burying bones out in the garden?”

“House -”

“Don’t stop me, I’m having fun,” House says. “And your point is?”

“It just strikes me as odd. You’re an equal opportunity abuser, why would you pass up the chance to make my life harder?”

“Cameron going on a date with me revealed something I didn’t know about her. Something pretty personal and relevant. Her fixation on damaged people,” House says. He sets the guitar down and runs his fingers through Chase’s hair. “You eagerly getting on your knees for me didn’t reveal anything I didn’t already know about you. This is just another way for you to project your Electra complex on me. Only,” he tugs at Chase’s hair and Chase winces and slaps his hand away, “Daddy’s dead now, so it’s a free for all. Nobody but me can give you whatever it is you need. Even all those women you’ve been feverishly fucking to remind yourself you’re not gay.”

“Christ,” Chase says, scowling. “I asked a simple -”

“You asked a dickhead question, and you got a dickhead answer,” House replies easily. “I think you’re onto something, though. If we had sex on the conference table in front of Cameron and Foreman, they’d both be very uncomfortable. I can’t say whether or not they’d be better at their jobs because of it, but it might be worth it for the comedic value alone.”

“Alright, alright,” Chase says. “I regret this _entire_ conversation.”

“You might get Cameron to cry depending on how well you sell it. She knows you’re prettier than she is.”

“I said uncle.”

“And I said don’t stop me when I’m having fun.”

“Fine, let’s have a different sort of fun, then,” Chase says, sitting up. “I’m over for a reason, aren’t I?”

“Finally, he gets it,” House says. “You know, I'm always telling patients' families you're not as dumb as you look.”

 


	2. 2

Wilson catches them.

Chase expects him to be horrified, but he seems only generally exasperated. Chase dives to the left, hiding behind a desk, wiping his mouth and clasping his hand over his eyes. House pulls his pants back up and does his belt with no fanfare whatsoever.

“ _Really_?” Wilson says.

“Really,” House says.

“Chase, come out,” Wilson says.

“Oh, what a softball,” House says.

“House, _get_ out.”

“Of my own office?”

There’s silence. Chase waits.

House grabs his cane and pokes Chase in the shoulder with it, then departs. Chase clenches his jaw.

“Are you going to tell Cuddy?” he says, getting up and dusting off his pants. He can’t manage to look Wilson in the eye.

“Are you nuts? Why, to induce an aneurysm? No, she has enough to worry about.” Wilson looks him up and down, and heaves a sigh.

“Are you being safe?” he says.

Chase is dumbstruck by this choice of first question. “Er,” he says. “Yes, of course.”

“It’s just that House fucks a lot of hookers.”

“I’m aware.”

Wilson squints at him. “If you don’t mind me asking -”

“I can assure you in advance, I probably do.”

“Well, tough shit, I’m the best friend, I get to ask the employee slash fuckbuddy some awkward questions. What exactly is going on here?”

Chase has a sigh of his own, then. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Not nothing, but nothing significant. We’re just each blowing off steam.”

“Uh-huh. Are you aware this is un-House-like behavior?”

“What, sleeping with men?”

Wilson flaps his hand in a way that is extremely revealing in its dismissiveness. “Sleeping with someone he has to interact with on a daily basis.”

“Maybe he figures when we’re done, I’ll be so ashamed I'll quit,” Chase says with a shrug.

“Will you?”

“Shame isn’t exactly one of my core emotions.”

They lock eyes. Wilson scrutinizes him.

“You think you know what you’re getting into,” Wilson finally says. “You don’t.”

“Getting rather bitchy, aren’t we?” Chase says flippantly. He likes Wilson, but he doesn’t like this conversation. “Am I in the middle of something, here?”

Wilson scoffs and leaves the room. Chase steadies his breathing and fixes his hair.

 


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever looks at my recent google searches is definitely going to think I have gonorrhea

“You gave me gonorrhea,” Chase hisses.

He’s sidled up next to House in the lab. No one else is in there, but he keeps his voice very low, just in case.

“I gave you _goh-norrhe-ar?”_ House calls out loudly, mocking Chase’s accent. Chase cringes. “No I didn’t,” he says normally. “And keep an eye on the patient's culture.”

“It’s just strep.”

“Says you. Keep an eye on it anyway.”

“You did,” Chase says, annoyed. House sounds confident enough to make him doubt himself, but he can’t get Wilson’s stern, condescending face out of his head.

“I did not,” House says. “And the reason you’re bothering me about it is the same reason I know I didn’t.”

“Excuse me?” Chase moves back over to check on his culture. “Strep,” he adds.

“Then we’re looking at strep _and_ a genetic condition.”

Chase sighs. “So -”

“Because Wilson asked you if we’re being safe,” House says, moving Chase over to look at the culture himself. “He asked me the same thing. I finally…” he rummages around in his blazer pocket and then hands Chase a wrinkled piece of folded paper. “Went ahead and tested myself yesterday. Got the results this morning.”

Chase unfolds the paper and looks at it. House is negative for everything.

“Bastard,” Chase mutters, crumpling it up in a ball.

“Hey, be careful,” House says. “I was going to put that on my fridge. So, the real issue here is, one of your gay panic lays gave you gonorrhea. Give yourself some Rocephin and keep your dirty mouth away from my jewels until it clears up. By the way, it was probably the bartender.”

Chase steps away from him and takes a seat on a stool. House turns, leaning on the table.

“Wait,” Chase says. “How do you know about the bartender?”

“Went through your pants while you were showering. You had her card. Stop going to cheap bars.”

“I can’t afford better bars,” Chase snaps, getting up.

“You don’t have to buy drinks if you’re there to fuck the bartenders. Just walk in, get a water and stand around until closing time. Wear tight jeans.”

“Why were you going through my things? Is there a reason you _don’t_ want me fucking bartenders?”

“Yeah,” House says, making a mock sad face and aiming to poke Chase in the groin with the end of his cane. Chase jumps out of the way. “You’re not sharing them with me. Or the more logical answer: I don't want to get gonorrhea.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Chase sees Cameron approaching the lab. He tries to rearrange his features into a more typical expression of House-induced annoyance.

“Hey,” Cameron says, poking her head in the door. “Is it strep?”

“Yeah,” Chase says.

“So we’re thinking genetic for the rest of the symptoms?”

“Look who’s on the ball,” House says. “Hey, Cameron, my leg is shitty again, when are you going to trick me into another date?”

Cameron glances at Chase, looking for an explanation.

“Ignore him,” Chase says. “He’s trying to piss me off.”

“By… asking me out?” Cameron leans on the door.

“Actually more complex than it initially sounds,” House says. “In other words, not Chase’s strong suit. Go get a more thorough medical history from the mom. Great-aunts, second cousins, everything this time.”

“Oka-ay,” Cameron says, leaving with a bemused look toward them both.


	4. 4

Chase knocks on House’s door for ten minutes before he gets an answer. It’s raining lightly, and he’s chilly by the time House appears.

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound casual.

House leans in his doorway, blocking Chase’s entry. “Bad time. Wilson is over.”

Chase sighs. “You’re kidding.”

“Actually, I am,” House says, and opens the door the rest of the way with his cane. “Get in here.”

Chase follows him dutifully.

“So what do you want?” House says. He’s stiff on his leg; he pulls a prescription bottle out of his pants pocket and takes two Vicodin while looking expectantly at Chase.

“Um,” Chase says. “I don’t know. Just to get out of my head, I guess.”

House disappears into the kitchen. Chase sits on the couch. His hair is damp and so are his clothes, but the heat is up in the apartment. He takes his coat off, and then his tie.

“Get out of your head, huh?” House repeats, his voice echoing. “Am I your dealer? Your hooker?”

Chase feels a combination of nerves and arousal tingle their way up his spine. He slides his hands over his thighs.

“You’re my boss. Get me a drink?” Chase says.

“I’ll do you one better,” House says. He comes back in and tosses stuff onto Chase’s lap.

A box of condoms and a handful of poppers.

“Alright, but a drink as well?” Chase says, as he picks up a popper and twirls it in his fingers.

House rolls his eyes and points at the bottle of Maker’s Mark on the coffee table. Chase picks it up and takes a long swig.

“If you’re sick…” House mutters.

“I’m not sick,” Chase says, wiping his mouth. “I might get sick, after you left me out in the rain.”

“Christ, Chase, time to go back to sunny Oz if you think a little mist is going to kill you.”

“Are these expired?” Chase says, pointing to a popper.

“They are not. I confiscated them from a gay clinic patient last week.”

“Stole them… for me?”

House laughs. He picks up the Maker’s Mark and has a swig of his own. “Yeah, why not.”

“Well, Cameron took meth off that gay patient we had,” Chase says. “I guess it’s a family tradition now.”

“Wasn't that when you two fucked?”

Chase just looks at him. House is leaning on his cane, staring at him with a certain expression in his eyes.

Chase tilts his chin to indicate House should come closer. House does, and maneuvers Chase with surprising ease, moving him onto his lap. Chase straddles him and they kiss.

“So I’m wondering,” House murmurs, stroking Chase’s hair. It’s almost dry now. “Who’s going to fuck Foreman?”

“Not me,” Chase says. He spreads his legs wider. “I don’t want to get a reputation.”

House chuckles low in his throat and sucks on his lower lip. Chase moans and catches his breath.

He gets his pants off and pulls House’s down to his knees. House grabs a handful of his ass underneath his boxer briefs as he dips his head down to uncap a popper and take a bump.

It takes a few seconds, and then he gets the heady feeling. He feels blood rush to his cheeks.

House takes his face forcefully in his hand and looks at his pupils. “Good?”

“Good,” Chase sighs, leaning in and burying his face in House’s shirt. House slides his hands over Chase’s back, then reaches for the condoms. Chase hears him uncap something and opens his eyes to look over. He sees a bottle of lube.

House is already hard. As he pulls a condom onto himself and applies lube, Chase starts feeling the secondary effects of an alkyl nitrite high. He squeezes his eyes shut and one of his hands, resting against the back of the couch, tightens on the cushion. His knuckles whiten.

“Fuck me,” he says. He means it.

“One second,” House says. “Delicate operations down here.”

He slides a lubed finger into Chase and very precisely begins to stroke his prostate. Chase chokes out another moan. His head hurts like he’s been staring at the sun, but his muscles are beautifully loose.

“Faster,” he murmurs. He nuzzles at House, lifting his face so they can kiss again. House sucks on his lower lip and then slides his cock into Chase.

Chases gasps. “ _God_ ,” he says. He’s unpleasantly surprised by how easily he accommodates House under the influence of poppers.

House pulls him in so they can kiss again, and starts moving so that Chase is bouncing on his cock just the slightest bit.

Chase slides his arms around House’s neck and House grabs Chase’s hair, holding it tight in his fist and pulling on it. Chase moans and fumbles around behind him on the table for the Maker’s Mark. He breaks the kiss to take another drink. Three shots in one swallow. Maybe four.

“Feeling self destructive tonight?” House asks, digging his nails into Chase’s ass.

Chase doesn’t answer; he doesn’t even lift his head. He grabs onto House’s shirt with one hand and the back of the couch with the other, and starts to move painstakingly slowly on his cock. A muscle twitches in House’s jaw and he grabs Chase tightly around the waist.

“You think this is degrading for me,” Chase says, trying to keep any sounds of pleasure out of his voice.

“I don’t think. I know.” House’s own voice is strained.

“What makes it so degrading?”

“Nothing,” House says. He runs his hands up and down Chase’s sides. “Except the fact that you think it is.”

“If I thought it was degrading, why would I do it?”

House lets out a bark of a laugh, then a groan as Chase moves on him more intently. “There’s a pretty obvious answer to that,” he says. “I’ll let you figure it out.”

The next thrust hits his prostate powerfully, and Chase gasps and leans forward.

“Heads up, about to come,” House says. His breathing is labored.

“Go ahead,” Chase says, tilting his head back.

House comes into the condom. He sighs and leans back against the couch, watching Chase as he gets up with discomfort and pulls his pants back on.

“I don’t get it,” House says. He gets up, ties off the condom and tosses it in a wastebasket. He wanders off into the kitchen.

Chase sits on the couch. He’s still flushed and loose from the poppers, and now he’s sore as well. He glances at the clock and realizes they only had sex for a little more than five minutes.

“Get what,” Chase says, barely trying to make himself audible.

“Receiving anal.”

“Prostate stimulation.”

House comes back in with a glass of water and drinks it while offering none to Chase. “Come upstairs,” he says. “I’ll finish you off.”

Chase gets up and follows him.

 

/

 

He wakes up the next morning to a percussive noise in his ear.

“Christ,” he mutters, squinting. House is standing above him, holding maracas.

“Wake up,” House says, tossing a maraca on the bed. It hits Chase in the small of the back. “You hungover?”

“What time is it?” Chase says, sitting up. House hands him a cup of black coffee.

“Six thirty. But I’m having you all come in early to do an MRI.”

“Since when?” Chase demands.

“Since ten minutes ago, when I figured out the patient needs an MRI. Get up.”

“God.” Chase grabs his shirt off the floor and starts buttoning it. “I need my lab coat and ID badge…”

“You better drive home fast, then,” House says, taking the untouched coffee from where Chase set it down and drinking it himself.

“Where’d you sleep last night?” Chase clears his throat.

“I didn’t. I went downstairs to work. You passed out about ten seconds after I finished the crappy handjob I gave you, like a forty year old father of two. You’ve been snoring ever since.”

“I don’t snore,” Chase mutters, lacing up his shoes.

“Oh, but you do, princess. Now get the hell out of here and you might have time for a shower.”

Chase stands, wobbling on his feet. He is a little hungover.

“When are you coming in?” he asks.

“Whenever I feel so inclined,” House says. “ _Go_.”

Chase obeys.

 

 


End file.
